versation. It was small, he acknowledged, as compared with the parent undertakings in England, but as the movement expanded, so they could increase the accommodation by the establishment of district-branches. Here stood the members' lending library. They had standard authors in both languages; works on politics and history; a few French novels, and fewer English scientific works; and, thanks to the munificence of private donors, a perfect storehouse of temperance literature. The French novels and the English scientific works were subjected to the most rigid scrutiny before being admitted to their shelves. Rooms were specially set aside for chess, draughts, and cards, which were permitted on week-days, but not for money stakes.

Brother Bamber wound up an harangue on the glorious future of the I. O. T. A. by correcting a well-known apothegm. Instead of cheaply pronouncing that "Le cléricalisme, voilà l'ennemi," Gambetta should have thundered into the ears of his compatriots that the enemy to be combated was "alcoholism," or simply alcohol. L'alcohol, voilà l'ennemi!”—how would that do for their motto here? "Very well indeed," said Mr. Byde.

66

A French gentleman, in a threadbare tall hat and frayed linen, advanced mincingly towards the three visitors, and, with the obeisance which betrays the lively sense of favours to come, presented Brother Bamber with an

account.

"One of our French agents," explained Brother Bamber; "a little bill for the outdoor propaganda. That gentleman waiting over there is one of his English colleagues charged with the management of our European correspondence."

Mr. Byde noticed that in the brief communication

which the English colleague had to make to Brother Bamber, he preferred to employ, or employed unwittingly, the Irish dialect of the English language as spoken in America.

Their tour of the premises completed, they descended into the street. As they moved in the direction of the Bourse, a hawker ran by them with his arms full of freshly-printed newspapers. He was shouting the contents of the journal, and appeared to be hurrying towards the main line of boulevards. Another hawker, folding his papers as he hastened along, followed at a little distance, and behind him they presently perceived one more, likewise calling out the sensational news.

"The first of the evening papers," remarked Brother Bamber. "What is that he is calling? Another murder?" "Assassination of an Englishman-mysterious affair!" shouted the first hawker.

"Strange discovery in this morning's mail-train from London," called the next, out of breath-"robbery not the object of the crime!"

"The murder of an Englishman this morning," repeated a third-"the police on the track of the assassin!" Brother Neel purchased a copy of the newspaper.

"Robbery not the motive of the crime!" commented Brother Bamber. "What then?”

His colleague spread the paper open, and they halted to peruse the latest intelligence. It was not difficult to discover the item in question. Lines in large black characters announced — “Assassinat d'un Anglais-Un drame intime!"

"Bless me!" exclaimed Brother Neel, after a glance at the opening sentences. "That must have been the train I travelled in myself."

"The very train you journeyed by from London!" echoed his colleague. "Really, now!"

"Robbery not the motive of the crime?" repeated the supposititious Mr. Smithson. "What do they think, then? A secret society at work?"

Brother Bamber looked over his gold spectacles at the speaker.

"Secret societies among Englishmen?" said he, smiling fixedly.

"No," returned Mr. Smithson "not among them: against them."

"In France?"

"Perhaps. In France-but not French."

"Surely you don't mean-you don't mean the old revolutionists, the American dynamiters?"

"Oh, personally, I don't mean anybody, or anything! Let us see what the paper says."

"But the old revolutionists who worked from Paris," persisted Brother Bamber, who, with his head erect, was regarding the other full through his glasses-"every man of them has long been known to the police, and none of them could stir without detection, I understood."

"Indeed? And so they are all known, and watched -the centres, the head-centres, and the rest of the veterans here?"

"That is the general impression in what I may call the official British colony, which is the source of my own information. And a very necessary precaution-a most reassuring state of affairs. In that way they are absolutely compelled to remain inactive."

"Of course they are. The veterans can do nothing while they are watched by the police; which, from what I have heard, accounts for their inaction while their

younger confederates, who are not in the least known to the police, go on with the campaign."

There was not the faintest tinge of irony in the speaker's tone.

"Why, I had understood that the association was on the point of collapse-the association of American dynamiters?"

"So had I," responded Mr. Smithson, the picture of stupidity for the moment.

Brother Neel handed the newspaper to his colleague of the I.O.T.A. The latter translated the paragraph, and read it aloud. After setting forth the circumstances of the discovery, the paragraph proceeded as follows:

"We are enabled to state that the few papers which have been found in the possession of the deceased are not of a nature to establish his identity. The crime has manifestly not been committed for the sake of plunder. The pockets contained loose money amounting to a considerable sum, and the jewellery worn by the deceased has been left untouched. Either of the ordinary hypotheses becomes, therefore, at once disposed of, the idea of suicide being entirely precluded. Must we seek for the clue to this crime in some story of private feud, in some family vendetta, some tale of heartless betrayal or malignant jealousy? From time to time, indeed, the hypocrisy of English social life is brought home to all those of us who have suffered ourselves to be imposed upon by Pharisaical airs of superior virtue. Scandals of incredible magnitude, dragged from time to time into the light of day, remind us opportunely that beneath the apparent fastidiousness of our starched neighbours we may discover a corruption of manners to which the most licentious period of ancient Rome affords the only fitting

parallel. Happily, we French-nous autres Françaisare not like our Britannic neighbours. We may possess our faults-who can say that he is impeccable?—but our candour redeems them. The characteristic of France is generosity of thought, word, and action; that of England, an egotistical hypocrisy. The French are valiant, impulsive, and trusting; the English are calculating, cold, and braggart. Ah, pudique Albion-down with the mask! Our good police of Paris is already unmuzzled, and we may confidently expect a prompt unravelling of this latest mystery. One thing we may promise to British society, with its pyramid of cannt-this term has been invented by the English themselves, to express their own hypocrisy we can safely promise that whatever may be the tale of scandalous vice connected with the tragedy of this morning's mail, the Paris press will be no party to its concealment. For our part we shall give the most ample details. Our own relations with the Prefecture of Police have been too often turned to the advantage of our readers for any doubt whatever to exist as to our ability to place before the public any matters which may come to the knowledge of the authorities. We shall keep our readers closely informed of every development in this mysterious affair. The sources of information at our own disposal, independently of the Prefecture, are both varied and trustworthy. We will not say that we are not, even at this early juncture, in the possession of facts that might in a material degree influence the conduct of the inquiry. But to the police, who profess to have discovered something in the nature of an indication, we will do no more than offer the proverbial, but eternally true, counsel, Cherchez la femme!' The body has been transported to the Morgue for identification."